


Wake Up

by Pixel_Cat



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Coma, Comforting Cecil (or is it?), First WtNV oneshot, Hurt Carlos, M/M, Mentioned Attempted Sacrifice, Wake up!, Weird Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2359982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixel_Cat/pseuds/Pixel_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Read it.”</em> The radio hissed. <em>“You have to read it to wake up.”</em></p><p>Shakily, he opened it and let his eyes skim over the sloppy sentences. He finishes feeling numb and abnormally cold. It takes a moment for everything in him to sink in, and when it does, Carlos screams. </p><p>He screams and screams and screams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in this fandom, so please don't murder me if I get things wrong. *flails* This oneshot was inspired by the creepypasta, ‘Wake Up’. The concept was chilling and very interesting, so thus this oneshot was born (it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm procrastinating on my AP work. Nope. Not at all. *whistles innocently*).
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it. ^_^
> 
> My bad for mistakes in spelling or grammar. I don't have a beta reader. :P.

Carlos doesn't notice anything strange for nearly a week. Which is completely understandable in his line of work, when researching is prioritized over everything else in his life. However, he has been cooped up in his lab for nearly a week. If this was back home, back before Night Vale, he wouldn't have been worried. But this isn't back home, this was Night Vale, and not a single soul interrupted his work. Not even one of his various colleagues.

Strangely enough, the radio he has tuned into Cecil’s broadcasts is silent. The little black machine whirring placidly, as if it was alerting Carlos to the fact that something was very, very wrong. He abandons his work to check the device. Maybe one of his fellow researchers had flipped it to something else and forgot? The numbers stare at him defiantly. It is on Cecil’s channel.

At this point, he starts to sense the panic bubbling beneath his skin and the dread curling in the pit of his gut. Rationally, he knows that he should keep calm. There hasn't been anything to warrant such reactions. It was entirely possible that Station Management had given the radio host a break. The blond could be eating some lunch for all he knew! 

Or at least, that was the pathetic reassurance his mind was trying to feed him. Carlos knew the truth from his long nights of talking to Cecil; Station Management didn't give out off days. Ever. It was at that revelation that Carlos could be certain that something was wrong. If Cecil’s smooth voice wasn't pouring from the speakers of his radio, then the world was not right.

He moved to grab his satchel from the floor when all of a sudden a noise bursts to life from the previously mute radio. Goosebumps rise all over his arms, and he can feel a shiver run down his spine at the heaving breaths filling the room. His mind immediately discards his satchel, and he warily approaches the device. He stops the moment the radio’s words hang in the air.

_“You have to wake up.”_

The message itself is creepy. The sentence replaying in Carlos’ head like a broken record. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Why would he need to wake up? He was perfectly consciousness, and he was a hundred percent sure that he wasn't dreaming. The clarity in which his mind was functioning in was too good to be some concoction of his subconscious.

_“You need to find the note. You need to wake up. You need the note to wake up. Please, you have to find it. Please, you have to wake up.”_

He had to find a note? Was this a silly elaborate joke? Carlos sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. Cecil was probably in on it too. Hell, everyone in Night Vale was probably in on it. His best bet in this situation was to go along with it. He would scold his boyfriend later, and probably demand some cuddles in return.

He looked around his work space, but there weren't any papers in the room. That in itself didn’t make any sense. He had a few illegal writing utensils stashed around his lab, but there wasn’t a single paper to be seen. And if that wasn’t enough, he had been observing an experiment just a few minutes ago, but there was no evidence of any tools he used. It was almost as if his entire experiment was a figment of his imagination.

As a last resort, Carlos shoved his hand into his pockets and was surprised to hear something crinkling within his grasp. He pulled it out and clutched in his fingers was a torn and bloodied paper. Nausea began to swim in the back of his throat, and the sticky crimson was staining his tanned fingers.

 _“Read it.”_ The radio hissed. _“You have to read it to wake up.”_

Shakily, he opened it and let his eyes skim over the sloppy sentences. He finishes feeling numb and abnormally cold. It takes a moment for everything in him to sink in, and when it does, Carlos screams. 

He screams and screams and screams.

[line break]

_This place isn’t real, Carlos. It isn’t and you know it, don’t you? Sometimes people, people who have gone through torture like you have, retreat into a fantasy world within their minds from which they cannot **wake up**. You’re in a hospital with IVs riddling your skin like stickers while your consciousness is stuck in a world similar to your own._

_You remember what brought you here too, right? The pain of the knife slicing through your skin and the rough hands holding you down on the altar as you arched your back in agony. The warm blood pooling around you as you steadily grew weaker and weaker. The way the air was thick with the scent of copper and the sound of your shrieks._

_They were going to sacrifice you in order to bring back their loved one from the dead. The whole time you were praying, wishing they had chosen someone other than you. You knew why that wouldn’t have changed a thing though. They needed an outsider. Someone who wasn’t a native to Night Vale. You just happened to be the unfortunate person who fit the bill. They should have known that your lover would come for you. Cecil Palmer, the man who is more than he lets on._

_But this isn’t about him, this is about you. You have to **wake up** , Carlos. This isn’t your world. This isn’t where you belong. Don’t you miss Cecil’s comforting embraces and his sweet kisses? Don’t you miss the rush of researching the newest anomaly in Night Vale? Don’t you miss the way the townsfolk see you as a hero? Don’t you miss feeling alive?_

_If you don’t **wake up** , you’ll be stuck here until the day your body in the outside world dies. But would that really matter? You’ll never feel sorrow. You’ll never feel lonely. You’ll never feel pain. You’ll never feel happiness. You’ll never feel love. You will never be loved._

_**Wake up.**_

[line break]

Carlos opens his eyes to see Cecil’s blurry form standing over him with tears brimming in his purple orbs. There are strong emotions being expressed blatantly in his boyfriend’s gaze, but he can’t pinpoint them, can’t understand them.

“Oh sweet Carlos.” The radio host blubbers. “I haven’t seen your beautiful caramel eyes in a month. Thank the gods, you’re awake….”

As the tall man’s arms gently wrap around him in a tight hug, Carlos realizes which raw emotions were being exposed on the blond’s face. 

They were relief and love.

“Don’t ever do that do me again.” Cecil murmurs as he presses his face into Carlos’ hair. 

Carlos can feel the bespectacled man’s tears dripping onto him, but he nods weakly nevertheless. He parts his lips and winces as he hears his voice, hoarse with disuse. “I won’t, Cec. I promise.”

“Carlos, I couldn’t bear it if you….”

Cecil doesn’t finish talking, but the tightening of his grip is enough to tell Carlos all he needs to know. Even if he has to live with the memories of what was done to him, even if he has to see the scars crisscrossing on his skin, even if he has to suffer through nightmares, he would never regret his decision to wake up.

But there’s still this part of him, a part of him that he can barely hear, in the back of his mind that squirms and tickles his thoughts. He ignores it the best he can as he focuses on Cecil’s warmth, his scent, and his love.

“I love you, Cecil.”

_**“You have to wake up, Carlos.”**_

“I love you so very much, sweet Carlos.”

 _ **“This isn’t real.”**_

Carlos smiles through his own tears, a bitter quirk of his lips that feels out of place on his face. “I know.” He croaks quietly, but he isn’t sure who he’s responding to; Cecil or himself. Either way, the sadness and relief still washes over his broken body.

_**“Wake up.”**_

Carlos wants to, he really does, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t know how to return to his life in the living world. He doesn’t know how he can leave this place and face his fears, his shame, his fragility. His mind is torn, and outside the hospital window, all he can see is a vast desert of darkness. 

_**“Wake up, Carlos. You have to wake up.”**_

If only it was that easy.


End file.
